


Sea Change

by FluffyBeaumont



Series: No Change [4]
Category: Dark Shadows (1966)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-23
Updated: 2012-09-23
Packaged: 2017-11-14 22:08:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/520016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FluffyBeaumont/pseuds/FluffyBeaumont
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Willie finally gets Barnabas into bed - with the help of some period costuming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sea Change

Willie didn’t see Barnabas until the next evening: the vampire approached him as he was painting the trim in the upstairs hallway. “Good evening, Willie. I…wonder if I might have a word?”

Willie climbed down off the ladder, scrubbing his hands on a rag. “Well, Barnabas, you’re my boss, so I kinda don’t think you gotta ask.” He tried to smile but the expression sat uneasily on his face. “I…uh…I waited for you, last night. How come you didn’t show up?” 

The vampire’s expression was painful to watch: guilt mingled with shame, mingled with sorrow. “I thought it best not to.” His gaze slid away. 

”S’okay.” Willie affected a nonchalance he didn’t feel. “Guess I was kinda out of place, huh? That why you didn’t come in?” He shook his head. “Yeah, that’s it.” He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and shrugged. “I shouldn’t have done it. That’s what you came to tell me, ain’t it?” 

”No, Willie.” Barnabas’ expression softened. “I need your help. Yes, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about how isolated we’ve become lately and I think I have the solution.” 

Willie picked absently at a spot of dried paint on his thumb. “You do?” He blinked. “Wh-what is it?” 

”I’ve decided to give a party.” 

”A party.” With food and drink, and decorations and other people…maybe a lot of other people. “Barnabas, are you sure that’s a good idea? I mean, I ain’t quite finished the renovations on the house yet. M-maybe we should wait – “ Too late he caught the error, and flushed a brilliant scarlet. “Maybe _you_ should wait till I can get this place a bit more ship-shape. You know?” 

Barnabas laid a hand on Willie’s shoulder and gently squeezed. “Your work is beautiful, Willie. I assure you, our guests will be dazzled by your artistry.” He bent to look into Willie’s face. “You’re a wonder – do you know that?” 

_Yeah, if I’m such a wonder, how come you stayed away last night?_ “Thanks, Barnabas.” 

”I was thinking of a theme for the party – historical, you might say – and we will all dress up in costumes from the 18th century. What do you think of that?” 

”Why, sure, Barnabas…do you want me to serve? I waited on tables some, when I was in school. Maybe I still remember how it’s done, huh?” He grinned. “Get me one of those fancy white aprons and put a napkin over my arm. Don’t you worry, I’ll make you proud of me.” 

Barnabas raised his eyes slowly and he spoke slowly, as well: “I am always proud of you, Willie.” His voice was a low, sensual murmur. “Proud of you and so much more.” He caressed the younger man’s cheek with the backs of his knuckles. “Would you wear what I choose for you? To the party, I mean.” 

_I’d show up in a goddamned gorilla suit and you know it._ “Sure, Barnabas.” He ached to lean into the caress, turn his face and press his mouth against the vampire’s hand, but he didn’t dare. All the unsaid words that lay between them now, and all the hoarded promises… _I’ll be in my room. Why don’t you meet me there in a couple minutes, huh?_ But Barnabas hadn’t come: Willie had waited, sitting naked in the dark, and Barnabas hadn’t come. 

 

 

Barnabas was waiting at the foot of the stairs when Willie came out of his room. He listened to the young man’s tread in the corridor above, then the creaking of the top stair as Willie took his first, tentative step. Barnabas believed he had chosen well, but he wouldn’t know this for certain until he saw Willie for himself. What if Willie hated the costume? What if he refused to wear it, or worse – looked ridiculous in it? “Willie? Aren’t you coming down?” 

”Right here, Barnabas.” Willie moved slowly like an actor preparing for a role; each step was deliberate, steady, even meditative. When he stopped moving he stood on the third stair from the bottom and – here Barnabas permitted himself a tiny sigh of relief – he was dressed in the outfit Barnabas had chosen for him. 

He was quite literally a different person. “Oh, Willie.” The younger man started to descend the rest of the way but Barnabas stayed him with an outstretched hand. “No, please. Let me look at you.” Black riding boots, polished to an impossible shine: the smooth leather shaft clasping well-shaped calves…the boots stopped just short of the knee, leaving ample space for the fitted deerskin breeches that clung to Willie like the malleable skins they were. A brocade waistcoat glistened against the blinding white shirt of fine linen, and over this a frock coat of deep bottle green with gold buttons and intricate gold frogging. “Good God, you’re beautiful.” It was hard to speak over the lump in his throat.

”I couldn’t figure out how to put it on.” Willie handed him a scrap of silk: the black cravat intended to close the collar of his shirt. “Do you tie it like a bowtie, or maybe with a Windsor knot?” 

“Please – allow me.” Barnabas looped the cravat around Willie’s neck, threading the silk under the collar and bringing both ends up in front. “It’s quite simple, really.” Beneath the fine linen, Willie’s skin was warm, and he smelled faintly of cologne. Standing so close to him, Barnabas was powerfully aware of his considerable physical allure: in spite of himself his gaze lingered on the strong column of Willie’s throat, the dimple in his chin, his supple mouth. 

”What time are the guests supposed to arrive?” Willie asked quietly. 

”In about half an hour.” Was that his voice? Did he actually sound like that, so pained, so…needy? 

”Half an hour, huh?” Willie stepped down the rest of the way and put his arms around the vampire’s neck. “A whole half hour.” His fingers slid into the hair at the back of Barnabas’ neck. “Ain’t you gonna kiss me?” 

”Willie…” One kiss wouldn’t hurt, would it? He was hardly going to throw the boy down and ravish him right there on the stairs. He clasped Willie’s face in his hands, his thumbs stroking the pale cheeks gently. Willie edged closer until their faces were nearly touching, and pressed his lips to the vampire’s mouth – the merest butterfly touch. “Ah.” A frisson of sensation rippled through him, and Barnabas grunted softly as Willie deepened the kiss, pulling Barnabas into his embrace and holding him there. He stumbled backwards, blind and deaf under the sensual assault, until, back against the wall, he could go no further. The tip of Willie’s tongue insinuated itself between his lips, opening him, and he gave himself to it, gladly. 

”Maybe we should go upstairs?” Willie’s mouth was flushed a delightful pink from the passion of their kiss. “We got time.” He slid his hands up under Barnabas’ frock coat, thumbs caressing the vampire’s cool white skin. “Huh, Barnabas?” 

A flurry of knocks sounded on the front door. 

 

 

”I guess I better get that.” Willie smiled, caressing Barnabas briefly, and disappeared into the foyer of the house. 

 

 

The evening was a success. The Collins family had turned out _en masse_ , bringing with them some of the village notables. Professor Stokes collared Barnabas near the foot of the stairs to engage him in a long conversation about the house’s previous owners – not realising he was talking to one of them – while Elizabeth Stoddard and Carolyn hovered nearby, holding cocktail glasses and gossiping. 

”And I mean, _really_ , the colour scheme in the upstairs landing is as potentially perfect as any amount of research could make it. I am profoundly impressed, Mr. Collins, with the work you’ve done here.” 

Barnabas wasn’t listening. All night his gaze had been drawn to Willie, who drifted about the assembled company like a veteran maitre’d. His deportment was impeccable; his manners exquisite. He was patient and polite, circulating with endless trays of drinks and hors d’oeuvres, smiling, answering inquiries…and he was _so_ very beautiful that Barnabas was hard pressed to look at anything else. “I beg your pardon?” With an effort he drew his attention back to Stokes. Willie was offering a tray of cocktails to a group of Collinsport ladies who were standing near the fireplace. He bent slightly from the waist, holding the tray balanced on the tips of his outstretched fingers, and he was smiling at something one of the women said. “Oh, yes, the décor.” 

”Mr. Collins, are you _quite_ alright?” The professor followed the line of Barnabas’ gaze and nodded. “Ah. I see.” He smiled, tried to hide it and failed. “Young Mr. Loomis is quite an asset to your household.” 

”Yes.” Barnabas turned his gaze full on Stokes. “You…understand.” 

Stokes watched Willie for a few moments, and there was something wistful in his look. “Oh, yes. I understand more than you might think.” 

Barnabas was surprised by this admission – not by its essence, but rather by the fact of it. “Are we talking in circles, Professor?” 

Stokes smiled, and Barnabas fancied he saw something of his old friend Ben – some playful impulse, a private joke. “Are we?” 

Stokes cast a quick look around him before leaning closer. “Mr. Collins, let me give you a word or two of advice: when you are offered something precious, take it.” He shook his head briefly, eyes downcast. “Sometimes, a man can wait too long.” 

Barnabas wondered exactly what Stokes alluded to, then decided he didn’t need to know the particular situation; he already understood what the professor was trying to say. “I’ll remember that.” He clasped Stokes’ hand. “And thank you.” 

 

 

It was well after midnight when the last of the guests left. Barnabas shut the front door behind them and shot the bolt. Passing through the foyer into the sitting room, he paused to put out the candles and checked that the fire was banked up for the night. 

Willie was at the kitchen sink, surrounded by glasses, plates and cutlery. He had removed his jacket and waistcoat, and the sleeves of his shirt were pushed up past his elbows. He turned as he heard Barnabas come in. “Hey, Barnabas. Great party, huh?” 

”What are you doing?” Barnabas drifted close to him. “You don’t need to do those now. It can wait till later.” He stood very still, drinking in the sight of his servant – his _man_ \- looking so charmingly disheveled with both his lean, long-fingered hands in the warm water. 

”I don’t mind.” Willie smiled up at him. “Better to tackle it now, I expect.” 

Barnabas slipped a hand into the water. It was tepid, blood warm. He let a little of it trickle over the smooth planes of Willie’s face, smeared it into the hollow of his throat. “Willie.” What he wanted to say wasn’t possible with mere words, or maybe it was possible in some language other than this. He dipped his hand into the water again and painted moisture on Willie’s lips, the point of his chin. “Would you…”

”Anything for you, Barnabas. You know that.” 

He scooped up water and let it fall onto the fine white linen of Willie’s shirt, wetting it to transparency. He smoothed the fabric with his palms, his fingertips unerringly finding a nipple and teasing it to hardness. Willie moaned softly and swayed against him, wrapped Barnabas in his arms and held him. “Take me to bed,” he whispered. 

Bending, Barnabas swept an arm behind Willie’s knees and lifted him up. He bore the young man swiftly up the stairs and into the bedchamber. “Perhaps –“

”I know what I’m doing.” Willie lifted the hem of his wet shirt and pulled it over his head. “I want this as much as you do, Barnabas. And I ain’t made of glass.” He reached to push the vampire’s coat off his broad shoulders. “I ain’t made of glass,” he whispered. He removed Barnabas’ garments one by one: the frock coat, the waistcoat and cravat, the linen shirt so like his own. He stood back while Barnabas pulled off his boots and stockings. When Barnabas moved to unbutton his breeches, Willie stopped him. “Let me.” He gazed at Barnabas with eyes clouded by desire. “Let me do it.” 

He slipped the buttons free, tugging gently at the fine deerskin. Barnabas wore no drawers underneath. “Just skin.” Willie swallowed hard. “Just you.” He folded to his knees and pulled the breeches the rest of the way down, discarding them over a chair, then smoothed his palms up the vampire’s powerful thighs. “Oh, God…” Naked, Barnabas was a cool marble statue, pale and flawless, his chest and arms lightly dusted with hair, his uncut cock swollen with desire and flushed a deep purple. Willie took the tip into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue, and Barnabas cried out, clutching at him. 

Willie lay on his back on the big bed while Barnabas stripped him. The world had contracted to the size of the room, the space of the bed, the two of them. He reached out and traced a slow circle around one of the vampire’s nipples, was immensely gratified to see erotic anticipation bloom on Barnabas’ face. He opened his arms and Barnabas came into his embrace, laid his naked body against Willie, skin to heated skin. He was trembling. 

The first kiss was eager, hungry, and Willie, feeling the slippery intrusion of the vampire’s tongue, groaned into Barnabas’ open mouth. He shifted, wrapping his legs around the other man’s waist, opening himself, offering himself as Barnabas began to move. The pressure of it and the delicious friction, the gorgeous weight of the vampire, lying on him, brought him almost too swiftly to the brink of his release. It was coming for him, rising from the base of his belly, flooding through him like dark and rapid water. 

His fingers dug into Barnabas’ shoulders as he came, and he heard himself cry out, as from a long distance off. The climax took him in its claws and squeezed him, forcing the breath from his lungs, pressing pleasure from him in long, throbbing bursts that left him flayed and wanton. 

”Willie.” Barnabas went absolutely still, his face smoothing to alertness, as if he were listening to something only he could hear. He groaned, his body jerking, pulsing his essence into the space between their joined bodies. “God – “

”I’m here.” Willie caught him as he slid forward. “I got you.” He held the vampire to him, listening to the beat of a single heart. 

**Author's Note:**

> I think Barnabas likes cosplay, so the idea of a costume party would come naturally to him. That Willie would look utterly gorgeous in period dress is a given, but, being a careful sort, he'd take off his jacket before doing something as mundane as washing the dishes.


End file.
